


What's In A Name?

by bugaboo_n_bananoir



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Background Relationships, Established Relationship, Gen, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, the gorilla is the focus but only in reference, they get the hamster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 05:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30100857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugaboo_n_bananoir/pseuds/bugaboo_n_bananoir
Summary: Marinette's got a gigantic secret. No, it's not that she's Ladybug—it's that she never learned the Gorilla's name.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Kudos: 122





	What's In A Name?

**Author's Note:**

> this was my fic contribution for the totographs zine (available free for download [HERE](https://totographszine.tumblr.com/post/645570117308121088/the-day-youve-been-waiting-for-has-finally))!! getting to write for a zine was so rad & i got the chance to be paired w my good bud [landturtlealyce](https://landturtlealyce.tumblr.com/) too, who did some really rockin [illustrations](https://landturtlealyce.tumblr.com/post/645764111809036288/the-totographszine-is-out-totographs-is-a)!! (thanks again alyce & the totographs mods!!! 💛)

In Marinette’s hectic, jumbled, super-powered life, she had only two major constants: Adrien’s nicknames being some of the best things ever, and her lies being some of the worst. These two truths had been greatly responsible for keeping her head firmly on her shoulders throughout the years. Facing down a seemingly unbreakable akuma? Hearing “bugaboo” would always keep her spirits up long enough to prevail. An hour late for a meetup with friends after oversleeping (again) and then promptly heading to the wrong café at the other side of town (... _again_ )? Upfront honesty was the only way to go if she didn’t want to dig herself into a deeper hole, and it usually resulted in a good laugh over the situation anyway. Simple enough rules by which to live, yet effective nonetheless. 

There was, however, one single itsy-bitsy, teensy-weensy, minor exception to these rules … a _major_ one, actually. Marinette had absolutely no idea what the Gorilla’s name was. 

She knew he carried butterscotch candies in his car’s glove compartment at all times. She knew that his fear and discomfort when it came to air travel was what initially inspired his career as a driver. She knew he would all but sell his soul to unwind in a hot tub with a smoothie after a long day. She even knew of the intricate, soap drama–esque subplot he’d crafted up in his head while playing with his superhero action figures. (And she was dying to know what would happen next—the 65th-edition vintage Knightowl’s arc was particularly riveting, if a bit convoluted.) 

The ins and outs of the Gorilla’s life were second nature to Marinette, to the point that she could even write a full-fledged biography on the man had she needed to, but what was his _name_? 

For as long as she could recall, she’d known the man solely by nicknames and nothing more. Way back in his chauffeuring days, it had been enough to simply refer to him as “Adrien’s bodyguard” on the rare occasions where she interacted with him. Not once throughout their encounters had Marinette questioned it. “Gorilla” suited him fine, after all, and he was hardly opposed, knowing it was used endearingly. 

So it went that the truth merely … evaded her. She had too much on her plate to make the matter a priority. And it wasn’t like she’d purposefully meant to go so long without learning it. But time passed, Hawkmoth was defeated, Adrien was adopted, she got married—and suddenly she realized it was infinitely more awkward to confess that she’d never learned the Gorilla’s name when he was now her _father-in-law_ of all things. 

To her credit, she’d been ultimately successful maintaining her ruse. Mostly. Kinda-sorta. If you squint, at least. However, her means were never pretty. It was downright humiliating at times. She’d once resorted to calling the Gorilla “Good Ol’ Inspector Salamander” at his birthday dinner to save face, and the confused glances she’d earned from the partygoers still kept her up at night. But her “system” was sound. She wasn’t positive if it was her years of salvaging embarrassing social situations or her practice keeping Ladybug’s secret identity under wraps that was more to thank for that particular streak of luck. She desperately hoped for her pride’s sake it was the latter. Realistically, though, she knew it was more likely to be the former. Either way, Marinette was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth and had every intention of taking the truth to her grave. 

Naturally, Adrien had other plans.

It began on what _should_ have been the best day of Marinette’s life. Her wedding day included, if she were being honest. (She’d be surprised if Adrien disagreed.) It was the day Marinette _finally_ got a hamster. After an eternity of gushing and dreaming about caring for one together, Adrien surprised her with one as a gift. It was a sweet gesture, and he’d successfully managed to pick the cutest hamster imaginable. Stubby legs, fur softer than a cloud, a twitchy little nose. It was love at first sight. A full three hours of cooing and obnoxious, sickeningly-sweet baby talk later, she finally remembered to ask what their new pet’s name would be. 

“There was this whole thing with the hamster ball and the cat toys on sale and—” Adrien gestured wildly with his hands, arms swinging to and fro in what she could only assume was an attempt at an explanation. Really though, it resembled some sloppy reincarnation of the Chicken Dance more than anything else. One look at her scrunched nose clued him in that she was not following whatsoever. 

“Maybe you had to be there, actually,” he said. “Well, long story short, he was being so stoic in the store that I thought it’d be funny to name him after my dad.” 

What? _What_? Marinette’s blood ran ice cold. Part of her almost wanted to laugh. (Internal crisis aside, he was right: that sounded hilarious. She’d have to remember to ask for the full story after her world stopped imploding.) Yet most of her wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and allow the earth itself to reclaim her. Anything to put her out of her misery would be welcome. Maybe if she wished hard enough, the hamster would mutate into some giant, horrible monster and end her suffering right then and now.

The hamster, however—whatever its name was—simply squeaked innocently up at her. Regardless of its disappointingly not-horrific form, the sound seemed almost mocking to her ears as it blissfully explored its new home, oblivious to her plight. She stared unseeingly at its curious movements, wishing it could at least outright tell her its name if it wasn’t going to extend her the courtesy of mutating on her behalf.

“You … named it after your dad,” she said, fingers crossed that she’d simply misheard him. “He and your dad … have the same name?”

Surely she was mistaken and he’d really said its name was “Toadstool” or “Bradley” or literally any other conceivable name.

“Yeah!” He beamed, his smile so bright that the hamster was seeking shade. Marinette winced.

Noticing her less-than-thrilled reaction, he backtracked awkwardly. “Unless that’s too weird? Or you’d prefer something else?” He rubbed the back of his neck. After his initial enthusiasm, his clear disappointment was suffocating. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “What was I thinking? Yeah, of course that’s not a good idea. We can change it. It’s fine.”

“ _No_!” Marinette practically leaped at him, taking hold of his shoulders in a vicelike grip. Then, realizing how frantic she must look, she quickly brushed out the wrinkles she’d formed on his shirt. “No, it’s perfect. That’s great. I love that.” _Why would she say that?!_ It was _not_ , in fact, perfect!

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

With a pained grimace, her fate was sealed. Oh boy. Crisis very much _not_ averted. It was all she could do to stop herself from screaming on the spot. After decades of wanting a hamster, here she was living her dream yet unable to properly savor the moment. Even worse, she had no one to blame but herself. 

Why couldn’t Adrien have picked some other name? Like maybe an awful pun, or something horrendously boring that would feel better suited for an accountant. Anything else! She could’ve learned to love it eventually. Instead, she was stuck floundering in her own self-inflicted uncertainty all because she’d been too sheepish to speak up before now. 

Worse still, Adrien was now staring expectantly at her. Did he know something was fishy, or did she just have spinach stuck in her teeth from lunch? Wait, did she even have spinach for lunch? Did the _hamster_ have spinach in its teeth? No, no. Now she was being ridiculous. (And perhaps a smidgeon self-conscious. She’d be checking her teeth obsessively the next time she passed a mirror, for sure.) Still, his intent gaze had her paranoia ramped up to an eleven—scratch that, eleven and a half—when paired with the way he cocked his head at her in curiosity. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked. 

“Absolutely!” she lied, like a lying little liar who tells lies. After all, she’d kept up the charade _this_ long—why quit now at the first sign of trouble like a reasonable person would do? Giving up was for quitters with common sense! Marinette would just have to pretend everything was peachy as ever. She could do this. She could! It’d probably be a piece of cake. And if she failed, what did she really have to lose? A lot, honestly. Too much. 

Best-case scenario? She wakes up, realizes this whole mess was all a dream, and she and Adrien swing off into the sunset together on her yo-yo. 

Wait, that was far too optimistic. Ideal, yes, but too unlikely for her to even fantasize about. 

_Realistic_ best-case scenario? She manages to learn the Gorilla’s name at last from overhearing Adrien say it after many awkward days, months, or even _years_ of avoiding her own pet and in-law. 

She shuddered at the mere thought of how she’d need to bend over backward to make that option work. Perhaps if she memorized the whole “What’s in a name?” Shakespeare soliloquy, she could get away with calling the hamster and Gorilla whatever she wanted in the meantime. Yeah, that’d work. 

And worst-case scenario? The Gorilla finds out she still has no clue what his name is, becomes rightfully offended, takes the hamster, and then _they_ run away into the sunset.

Sans yo-yo, no less. Surely then he and the hamster would never want to see her again, and Adrien would be left devastatingly lonely and heartbroken without them in his life and, and— 

“Marinette …” 

“Yes?” 

“Did you mean to say all that out loud?”


End file.
